The Night of the Dubious Plot Device
by BarkingatJim
Summary: Despite the title this story is not intended to be humourous. I chose it because the subject matter is a sensitive one. The story begins at the end of TNOT Bogus Bandits. I like Artie too much to make him suffer so that falls to Jim. This has been hanging around for a while. Please treat it kindly if you feel you can. If you hate it I wouldn't be surprised.
1. Artie

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 1

 **Artie**

"Go get him will ya? I'll look after her."

Those were Artie's last words to Jim before he ran out into the street in pursuit of Doctor Loveless, leaving his partner to keep Belladonna from escaping. Now those words were ingrained in his brain. Why had he left his friend like that? He had known that he was suffering the effects of having thrown himself into the electrical circuits and yet he had taken him at his word that he could cope with the situation.

Jim had thoroughly searched the area of Junction City around the Communication Centre, before accepting that Loveless had escaped once again and had then returned to where he had left his partner. Only Artie hadn't been there! No problem, he'd thought, Artie must have taken Belladonna to the Sheriff's office. He would make his way there. The Sheriff looked up when Jim entered his office.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, noting the worried expression on his visitor's face as Jim realised that Artie wasn't there.

"Have you seen my partner, Artemus Gordon?" Jim asked. "He would have had a young lady with him named Belladonna."

"Can't say as I have," the sheriff replied. "He's your partner you say. And who might you be?"

"My name is James West, I'm with the Treasury Department," Jim said, showing the man his identification.

"Secret Service, eh? What's this all about?"

"I left my partner, Artemus Gordon, at the Communication Centre with a female prisoner."

"Belladonna."

"Yes. But they're obviously not here…" Jim started to say, turning to leave.

"Hold on a minute. What were you doing at the Communication Centre?"

"That's classified," Jim said impatiently. "Look I really need to go and find my partner."

"You think he ran off with this Belladonna woman?"

"Definitely not, but he was injured so I need to find him sooner rather than later."

"Well he might not have got injured if you came to me first before you went around arresting people."

"That's not the way we work."

The sheriff shrugged. "So, do you want my men to help you look for this Gordon fellah?

Jim thought about it for a second. "I could use your help to search the town," he said.

"Clay! Dean!" The sheriff shouted and two men appeared through a door into the jail at the back.

"These are my deputies," the Sheriff said. "They'll go with you."

"Thank you Sheriff," Jim said. It would certainly be quicker than if he tried to do it on his own.

"Brooker's the name," the sheriff told him, motioning to his men. "This here's James West, a Government secret agent. You go with him and do as he says."

Jim nodded to the men and led them out onto the main street of Junction City.

Jim directed the two men as to where he wanted them to go and the three of them scoured Junction City. But there was no sign of Artie or Belladonna. Now Jim was worried that, impossible though it seemed, Loveless was involved somehow. That thought made his legs turn to rubber, the fact that Artie might be the prisoner of a madman or worse still dead. He managed to thank the deputies and walked back to his horse with a numb feeling inside. Artie's animal was standing there calmly waiting for its owner to turn up. He took its reins and led it back with him to the Wanderer with a troubled mind.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Once he had stabled the horses Jim lost no time in opening up the telegraph and sending a message to The Treasury Department with news of Artie's disappearance. He poured himself a small measure of whiskey while he waited for the reply, to steady his nerves or to deaden his conscience; he wasn't quite sure which. As he had hoped, Colonel Richmond, having been apprised of the situation, decided that immediate action was needed and West was more or less told to get on with it and be quick about it. Leaving instructions with Cobb for the care of Artie's horse and other matters, Jim rode out past Junction City and into the countryside to see if he could pick up a trail.

He found hoof imprints from two horses and followed them. He hadn't gone far before the trail stopped in a clearing and he could tell that they had met up with a vehicle pulled by two horses and both riders and vehicle had left the vicinity quite recently. There were also signs of narrow wheel marks coming from another direction and leading up to the broken ground where the horses had been waiting and with a chill Jim realised that these had been made by a perambulator and that he had almost bumped into a nurse pushing one as he had left the Communication Centre. Loveless had been right under his nose and he had let him get away – and Artie, he had put Artie in danger by being so blind. He should have realised there was something odd about that pram.

Well, he decided, there was no time to lose now. They couldn't have more than a few hours' head start. He got back up on his horse and continued to follow the trail he had found.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"You should have known that I was only bluffing when I put that gun to your head," Dr Loveless said with a frown.

He and his companions had taken up residence in a small tavern, having bribed the owner to let Loveless have occupancy for as long as he liked. He and his men would continue to run the tavern as cover for their whereabouts.

Belladonna stared back at him, her chin jutting out. "How was I supposed to know? You have been so unpredictable lately. First saying that Mr West's death should be savoured and then deciding to shoot him dead on the spot. I didn't know what to think."

"I told you that you would be beside me when I came to power. Do you think I am a common liar? You insult me, Bella."

"I thought Pearline had seduced you away from me."

"Ah female jealousy," Loveless said, nodding his head, "that I can understand. In that case, I forgive you, my dear. But don't do it again!"

"I promise I won't, Miguelito."

"Good. Anyway I don't quite trust Pearline. She is a little bit too much like me. I have sent her to my secret hideout to wait for us there. Now, how is our patient?"

"He's still unconscious. Do you think he'll die?"

"I certainly hope not; I have use for him," Loveless said. He couldn't help grinning as he pondered the possibilities ahead. "Though it's a wonder he's alive at all after the way he was electrocuted. It was shocking, very shocking indeed," he added with a chuckle which turned into a full-blown laugh.

Belladonna joined in. It seemed best to stay on the Doctor's good side.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Meanwhile the "patient" had regained consciousness to a world of pain in his chest and limbs but mainly his head. He put a hand up to gently probe his thick, dark hair for the skull beneath and found that it was shaking so badly that he had to put it down again. He groaned. What on earth happened to him? Then his brow creased and he drew his eyebrows together. There was a more pressing question if he could only think what it was. Suddenly it came to him.

"Who the hell am I?" he said.

There was no answer.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim followed Loveless' trail as far as the river and there he lost it. He crossed the river but couldn't pick up the trail on the other side. How could it have just disappeared? He scratched his head and peered down the river to see if there was any sign of a vessel. There wasn't and he wasn't surprised. It was just wishful thinking and anxiety for Artie. With Loveless being a couple of hours ahead of him he would be long gone. However, it seemed certain now that the vessel they had boarded was large enough to take the wagon and the horses. It must be some sort of river barge and he was betting it had gone with the flow of the river rather than back toward Junction City, so he would as well. He patted Blackjack's shoulder and set off to follow the river wherever it would take him – hopefully to his partner and friend. When he found him he just hoped Artie would forgive him for abandoning him. He had to believe it was "when". Anything else was too difficult to admit to himself.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"So Mr Gordon has completely lost his memory," Loveless confirmed with Belladonna when she gave him the news.

"He has no idea who he is," she said.

Loveless couldn't stop the glee bubbling up inside him and put his hand over his mouth the curb his exuberance.

"This will make my plan so much easier," he eventually managed to say, grinning. "Oh yes, so much easier. You had better watch out, Mr West. You won't know what hit you."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

'Mr West' was still trying to trace Loveless and his companions. Unfortunately it rained during the night. It was a typical summer storm that came out of nowhere, produced a heavy downpour of rain, and disappeared just as quickly. Thankfully he had been able to find shelter in an abandoned shack but when he emerged and looked around him he realised that any evidence there might have been of his prey leaving the river had been washed away along with his hopes of finding Artie.

He travelled on for a day, passing through small settlements but found no trace of Loveless. Eventually he booked a room at a saloon in the next town he came to. He had asked questions wherever he went and he did the same there but as usual no one had seen any strangers hanging around. As he had no idea where Loveless had left the river or in which direction he had gone Jim decided to throw in the towel and return to the Wanderer. To save time he sent a telegraph to Cobb asking him to bring the train to the nearest railroad station. As it was evening and the train wouldn't arrive until morning Jim decided to spend some time in the saloon bar. So it was that he drank just a little too much and ended up sleeping fully-dressed on the not-very-comfortable bed in his room at the saloon, thankfully too befuddled to have to dwell on what Artie might be going through, something that had occupied his mind ever since Junction City, if indeed his partner was still alive.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie was in fact very much alive but unaware that anyone was looking for him. At least that meant he had a clear mind when it came to worrying about his partner; he didn't know he had one. Other matters though were weighing heavily on him. A small man came to visit him as he lay on the bed in the room above the tavern. At first he thought he was hallucinating but it turned out that he really was that tall, or short would probably be a better description. The word 'tall' had nothing to do with the diminutive little man. Artie shook his head. He was still having trouble concentrating.

"Good evening," Loveless said, coming over to hoist himself onto the end of the bed.

"Hi," Artie said warily. Did he know this man?

"I understand you have a problem with your memory. I can help you."

"Help me? How? And just who are you?"

"My name is Doctor Loveless." He waited a moment to see if there was a reaction from the other man but Artie's expression remained only slightly puzzled. Loveless continued. "And I can help you find the man who betrayed you and left you for dead."

"Left me for dead? Who?"

"His name, Mr Gordon, is James West."

"James West," Artie repeated. No, that name didn't mean anything at all to him. Neither did the name Gordon.

"You say my name's Gordon. Just who am I and how did I get here?"

"Your name is Artemus Gordon. James West was once your partner in the Secret Service.

"Secret Service?" Artie said.

"Yes, you were both on an assignment when he betrayed you and left you for dead."

"But why?"

"Because he is ambitious and corrupt. One of my associates, Belladonna, found you and brought you to me. Mr West began looking for you once he realised you had escaped and I hid you and transported you to this tavern to recuperate. You needn't fear that he will find you here."

"What have you got to do with all this?"

"I'm the doctor who saved your life."

"Then I owe you my thanks. But now I have to get in contact with my superiors and tell them what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"What you just said."

Loveless allowed himself a small smile. "That won't do, Mr Gordon. Until you regain your memory Mr West can and will refute everything you say. You won't be believed. Worse than that, he will try to silence you because he can't allow you time to remember anything. You would be in great danger."

"Then what do you suggest I do? I can't shoot him without firm evidence."

"There's no need for that. You will take Mr West prisoner and either force him to confess or hold him until your memory comes back."

"How am I going to do that?"

"I have developed a drug which we could employ on Mr West. It would make him much easier to handle and more likely to tell the truth."

"I don't want him harmed."

"I can assure you it will do no physical harm at all," Loveless said, quite truthfully.

"In that case I agree to your plan, reluctantly though. How do we find this man West?"

"As it happens I know exactly where he will be tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

"I will leave you to get a good night's sleep."

Artie nodded and lay down. He was very tired.

Loveless put out the gas light and left the room. Once outside he took the gun from Belladonna who had been guarding the door just in case, placed it in his pocket, and danced down the hallway with her, brimming with glee.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	2. Jim

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 2

 **Jim**

Jim woke up later than expected the next morning and was thankful to have only a slight headache and a dry mouth. He packed up his gear and made his way down to the bar. He considered taking a hair of the dog that bit him but ordered a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee instead. He made a noble attempt at the eggs but half way through realised that it was a mistake and only stayed to down the rest of the strong brew before leaving the saloon to collect his horse from the livery stable.

The ride out to the railroad station was uneventful and after checking in with the crew Jim soon found himself in the familiar surroundings of the varnish car aboard the Wanderer. He made for his quarters where he washed, shaved and changed into clean clothes. All of this was done with a weighted spirit, knowing that when the Wanderer pulled out he would be leaving Artie behind, wherever he was, to a fate he didn't want to dwell on. Having put it off as long as possible he then sent a telegraph to Washington with the news of his failure. Artie was a popular agent and he knew the news would hit both Colonel Richmond and the President hard.

He received a reply almost straight away. It included regrets and instructions to return to Washington. He acknowledged the communication and then closed the telegraph down and threw himself onto the couch, delaying the moment when he would have to give instructions for the Wanderer to pull out.

Suddenly he heard a noise outside and a slip of paper was pushed under the door. Jim got up and hurried over to pick up the paper and quickly read it. He opened the door with one hand and drew his gun with the other. He could see a young boy running away from the train. He must have heard the door open because he stopped and turned to look back. When he saw the gun in Jim's hand he froze and looked wide-eyed at him.

"Wait!" Jim said. "I won't shoot." He holstered his gun. "I just want to know who sent you."

As soon as he realised there was no danger of being shot the young boy grinned and turned away, running off toward the railroad buildings. Jim would have run after him but he knew the boy would be lost among the hustle and bustle of the station before he could catch up to him.

Frowning, Jim climbed back aboard the train and looked again at the piece of paper. There was a message on one side. "IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FRIEND GO TO THE TAVERN IN STOCKVILLE AT 6 O'CLOCK THIS EVENING– A FRIEND".

The way the message had been delivered made Jim doubt that the writer was really a 'friend'. However for the sake of that hope he had no choice but to do as it suggested. He opened up the telegraph to send a further message to Washington but then changed his mind. He would find out what he could in Stockville first. He frowned when he consulted a map and realised that it was only half a day's journey from Junction City. Jim had ridden in the wrong direction. They weren't expecting him in Washington for a couple of days so there would be plenty of time to contact Colonel Richmond before he began to wonder where Jim was. Giving orders for the Wanderer to remain there for the time-being, Jim saddled up Blackjack once again and set off to find Artie. He refused to believe that someone wanted him to travel all the way to Stockville just to tell him that his partner was dead.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

After sleeping on it, Artie was not as taken with Loveless' scheme as he had been.

"No way should we be taking a Secret Service agent prisoner. There are steep penalties for that sort of behaviour," he told the Doctor over breakfast the following morning. "I don't want to appear ungrateful after what you have done for me but…."

"I quite understand," Loveless told him. "Maybe I was being a little zealous on your behalf. You must do as you see fit."

"I'm glad you see my point of view, Doctor."

"What are you going to do when Mr West arrives then?" Loveless asked.

"Try and talk to him, I guess."

"Let me at least have two of the tavern staff keep their guns trained on him then, what do you say? It's only for your safety," he added when it looked like Artie might refuse.

"Okay, you're probably right, I shouldn't take any chances."

"Especially since you are still recovering from his previous attack on you. It would be wrong of me to just stand back and let him harm you again. I have my doctor's oath to consider," Loveless temporised.

"When is he due to arrive?" Artie asked.

"My note said six o'clock this evening but he may arrive earlier than that in an attempt to catch you off guard."

"I'll be ready for him," Artie said.

"So will I," Loveless said, "so will I."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Actually it was exactly six o'clock when James West tied his horse up to the hitching post outside the tavern and entered warily, looking around him as if he was expecting to be attacked. He walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. He was pretty thirsty from his long ride. He had downed half of the liquid when a curtain at one side of the room was drawn back and Artie entered and started to walk slowly toward him. Jim moved toward him.

"Artie, thank God!" he said and the words, being obviously heartfelt, took the other man by surprise. In fact as Jim approached him Artie staggered back and went a deathly pale colour.

"Artie, what's wrong? Are you all right?" Jim demanded as he put out a hand to steady his friend.

"Jim, I remember everything," he said and it sounded hollow in his ears as he felt the blood rush to his head. He stumbled and sat down on a chair at one of the tables. Jim sat down next to him.

"I don't understand," Jim said.

"I'm sorry, Jim," was all that Artie could articulate to his friend at that moment.

Jim jumped up, gun drawn, as two men carrying weapons showed themselves and Loveless appeared from the same direction as Artie had seconds earlier.

Artie came to his senses completely then but he had no weapon so he could do nothing but watch.

"Drop your weapon, Mr West!" Loveless ordered.

Jim was calculating the odds of overwhelming the two armed men when Loveless gave a signal to one of them and the man trained his gun on Artie.

"Jim, don't!" Artie said but it was too late.

Jim gave up and dropped his gun to the floor. He hadn't come all that way to find Artie just to get him killed. He'd already taken one stupid risk with his partner's life and he wasn't about to take another.

Loveless laughed. "I'm getting to know you, Mr West. I've learned that Mr Gordon is your Achilles heel."

"You're wrong as usual, Loveless," Jim said "Artemus is a Secret Service Agent like me and we face death all the time. It's part of the job description. I would never let sentiment stand in the way of a successful assignment…"

Loveless laughed again. "Oh, Mr West, you do amuse me. You may lie to yourself but I know the truth."

Artie was looking intently at Jim. Did he really have that kind of power over him?

Jim sensed his gaze and looked back at him. However his expression gave nothing away.

"However," he said, as if Loveless had not interrupted him, "I wouldn't throw either of our lives away when there is a very good chance that we will be back on the Wanderer by this time tomorrow, if not sooner."

"A laudable aim, Mr West, but I doubt it very much. Take them upstairs!" he ordered the two men.

'Two against two' Jim thought. He didn't include Loveless; he had never been one for a fight. Jim had known for a while that the little man was mad but now he was acting carelessly as well.

The staircase was narrow and Jim was able to nudge Artie to signal his intention without being noticed. Half way up, with the two armed men behind them, Artie faked a swoon and toppled backwards, knocking into both men so that one fell down the stairs and the other went through the flimsy banister and landed on one of the tables. Jim vaulted after him while Artie waited, having noticed that the other gunman had been knocked cold by his fall. Loveless, as was his usual behaviour under such circumstances, fled the scene. Jim made short work of his assailant and then he and Artie moved the unconscious man from the bottom of the stairs so that Artie could descend.

"Sorry, Jim, I couldn't reach Loveless to prevent him from leaving."

"Don't worry, Artie, we'll run into him again one day, I guarantee it. Help me haul these two over to the sheriff's office."

When they had done this and the two men were safely behind bars, Jim and Artie returned to the tavern to search it.

"I wonder where they went," Artie said when their search turned up no-one and nothing suspicious.

"It looks like Loveless had been ready to abandon the tavern before I even arrived," Jim replied.

"What had that crazy little man got cooked up this time?"

"I guess we'll never know," Jim said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

As soon as they arrived back at the Wanderer Jim gave orders for the train to leave, which thankfully must have been all right with the railroad as the train pulled out a very short time later.

"I don't want to hang around here. Loveless obviously knows where the Wanderer is because he sent that note to me here," Jim said.

"Besides which I've seen enough of his grinning face to last me a lifetime."

"You don't know how good it is to have you back," Jim told him, walking to the telegraph to let Washington know the good news. He had just poured the pair of them a glass of whiskey and he downed it in one mouthful before opening up the books that concealed the machine.

Suddenly everything started to blur in front of his eyes and it was as if he'd been hit by a sledgehammer. He reeled and fell against the table for support.

Artie looked up when he heard the noise. "Jim, what's wrong?" he asked.

Seeing his partner was unable to stand up he sprang to his feet and helped him to sit on a nearby chair. Jim tried to speak to him but his words were slurred and he was having difficulty keeping his head upright.

"Whas wrng wi'me?" he managed to say.

Artie took a good look at him. "Jim, how much have you had to drink?" he asked.

Jim squinted at him through half-closed, unfocused eyes and passed out, falling off the chair and on to the carpet before Artie could stop him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	3. Artie and Jim

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 3

 **Artie & Jim**

Artie moved quickly to Jim's side. His partner was lying on the carpet, semi-conscious, and although he was talking he was incoherent.

"Jim! Jim! What's wrong?" Artie asked lifting up his head and trying to make sense of his mutterings.

A suspicion was growing in his mind that Jim was displaying the symptoms of being falling-down drunk. He looked up to where Jim had placed his empty glass of whiskey earlier. The only other thing Artie had seen him imbibe that day was a little of the beer he had ordered at the tavern in Stockville. Had he become a secret drinker since he had been away, he wondered? No, he decided, there hadn't been time for that sort of habit to develop and previously Jim had been as sober as the rest of his acquaintance. Anyway, Jim's behaviour had been perfectly normal until he had suddenly collapsed.

Worried about his friend's state of health Artie decided that the best course of action was to get him into bed and give Cobb orders to stop at the next town so that he could consult a doctor. If they arrived after dark then he would get the medic out of bed if necessary in order to put his own mind at rest over Jim's inexplicable condition.

By the time Artie had removed Jim's jacket and boots and managed to get him into bed he had forgotten all about sending a telegraph to Washington. He was profoundly shocked by his partner's condition. He checked that Jim's pulse and breathing were normal and sat by his friend's bedside for a while until he was certain that he was sleeping peacefully.

Trying not to be too anxious, a pretty difficult thing under the circumstances, Artie decided to spend some time in his laboratory, working on the blueprints for a new invention he had in mind. Either it would serve to occupy his thoughts or he would be too distracted to do it justice.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

After an hour or so Artie was deep in concentration and didn't hear the door to Jim's quarters being carefully opened. Jim poked his head out. Good, he thought, that interfering Gordon was nowhere to be seen. Jim had been indignant to find that someone, presumably Artie, had put him to bed. He had totally forgotten the fact that he had been unable to stand up. His thought processes were a little hazy over what had actually happened so he was going to blame his partner for the predicament he now found himself in – desperately craving alcohol - and bent on finding some.

The first thing he came across on entering the varnish car was the half full glass of whiskey Artie had been drinking earlier. He gulped down the fiery liquid and then wove his way over to the telegraph. He fumbled with the opening but remained intent on sending the message he had been about to when he had been interrupted by….something…he couldn't quite remember what. Although he had drunk very little he was totally unable to remember what the message was supposed to be. This struck him as hilarious. He did his best with his now limited ability and then staggered away without waiting for a response. He wandered back toward his quarters and then had a brilliant idea that had him trying to shush his owning explosive giggling as he crept into Artie's room.

An hour or so later Artie left his laboratory and dropped by Jim's quarters to see how he was doing. At first he was not too worried when he found that Jim was no longer on bed. That could mean he was feeling better and Artie decided that, if Jim had not already done so, he would make a pot of strong coffee. Before heading for the galley he first went searching for his friend.

Finding the varnish car empty, Artie was about to head back up the corridor when he noticed something catch on one of the windows before flying off in the direction of the back of the train.

"What the….?" He said, with a feeling that he recognised the item. He made for his own quarters in a hurry, where he found Jim bent double with laughter which he quickly tried to subdue on seeing Artie, but without much success.

"Jim!" he said, more in surprise than rebuke. "Was that the jacket of my blue suit I just saw go past the window?"

Jim whirled round at the sound of his partner's voice, nearly toppling over in the process. For a moment he had the grace to look abashed like a schoolboy having been caught in some sort of mischief but when he saw that Artie looked more puzzled than angry he turned to the window and threw something else out of it.

"Yes," he confirmed, "and there go the pants too."

Jim tottered as he rummaged through the pile of Artie's clothing spread on the bed. He picked up a particularly obnoxious shirt and was about to send that the way of the suit when Artie seized his hand, forcing him to drop it.

"Jim, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Never did like that suit," Jim managed to say. Although he was unsteady on his feet he was more articulate that when Artie had seen him earlier.

"Go and sit in the varnish car and I'll bring you a cup of coffee," Artie said, picking up the clothing and stowing items in drawers and cupboards.

"What if I'd rather have whiskey?"

"Then you'll have to make do with coffee."

Jim looked around him. Artie had put paid to his fun and he decided he might as well do as he had suggested. He launched himself across the room to the doorway and turned the wrong way, realised his mistake, and tottered in the direction of the varnish car where he settled himself carelessly on one of the sofas and closed his eyes.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie entered ten minutes later and nudged Jim awake to hand him a cup of strong coffee.

"Wake up, partner," he said, forcing the cup into his hand. Jim hurriedly placed it on the table.

"Whoa!" he said, "that's hot."

"Yes, I thought that might wake you up," Artie said. He was still upset that Jim would destroy his clothing, which temporarily outweighed his concern for his friend's state of mind.

"Can I get some whiskey in this?"

"No you cannot," Artie replied.

As Jim rose from the sofa to go find some for himself Artie placed a hand in the middle of his chest and forced him back down again.

"Oh no you don't," he said. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted, bowing his head and running his hands through his hair. He had sobered up as quickly as he had become drunk. "All I know is that I really need a drink and I'm trying to get it under control but there's this imp in my brain warning me that if you try to stop me I'll likely break your neck." He looked up as he said that and Artie was shocked to see that he probably meant what he said and also realised that Jim must be exerting an incredible amount of self-control. It was such a contrast to the sleeping man he had encountered a few minutes ago that he knew there was something more going on here than met the eye. But the decision now was one of whether to give in to Jim's demands or not. It might be a question of having to tie him down if he didn't.

"Okay," Artie said, "but just a touch," he added as he saw Jim's eyes light up.

He was topping up Jim's coffee with a splash of whiskey when Artie was alerted to the fact that a telegraph message was coming through. He took the key, walked over to the machine and unlocked the fake row of books so as to acknowledge he was ready to receive.

It was one of the oddest missives he had ever seen.

"IN RECEIPT OF MESSAGE = MONKEYS IN JACKETS CLAMOUR FOR LOVE = CANNOT FIND IN ANY OF THE CODE BOOKS = PLEASE CONFIRM ACCURATE."

"Jim?!" Artie exclaimed turning to his partner.

Jim shrugged and tried his hardest not to laugh. Artie plonked himself down in the nearest chair and glared at him. What on earth was he going to do?

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	4. Colonel Richmond

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 4

 **Colonel Richmond**

Artie realised that the first thing he needed to do was contact Richmond and try to straighten out the trouble that Jim had caused. He must have sent the erroneous telegraph while Artie was in the lab, he realised. The only reference he could think of for monkeys dressed in jackets was the time they had come up against Count Manzeppi. A little monkey dressed in a hat and jacket had managed to get a knock-out bomb past them despite a thorough search, which had obviously not been thorough enough. Well, the Government didn't train you for that sort of thing, Artie temporised. He thought furiously for a minute and then sent the following message.

"MESSAGE INCORRECT = MISKEY DUE TO AFTEREFFECT OF INJURY = ALL OKAY NOW= ON OUR WAY TO WASHINGTON"

He hadn't seen any way out other than to take the blame for the message Jim had sent. At least he had a good excuse and he was hoping that the fact he was alive and well and back on the Wanderer would take their minds off the implausibility of his explanation.

He was right. A reply came almost instantly telling of the Colonel's relief at knowing Artie was okay. No more was said about the strange message. Now Artie had only Jim to worry about.

"The first thing I'm going to do is hide the telegraph key," he said, placing it in his waistcoat pocket.

"Aw!" Jim said, looking skew whiff at him.

"And what I am about to do now is for your own good, James my boy," he added

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Seeing that Jim was having trouble staying awake, caused partly by his alcohol intake and partly by his having spent some of the night destroying his suit and their credibility with Washington, Artie decided to help the process along.

He slipped some white powder from his pocket into Jim's coffee without the other man even noticing.

"Here, Jim, drink up your coffee," he said.

Jim lifted the cup to his lips and drained the contents. Within ten seconds he had passed out and Artie was only just in time to catch him as he rolled out of his chair in the direction of the floor.

"Steady now," he said, pushing him back into an upright if slightly sagging position. "Hmmm," he added only just then beginning to realise that he now had to try and move Jim's dead weight to his quarters. It would have been much easier if he had drugged him while he was standing upright. He shrugged and leant his body into Jim's midriff, placing his head under his partner's chin on the right hand side. He then pulled the unconscious man's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him backwards so that he was more-or-less in a fireman's lift. He stood up straight, evening out the weight before slowly carrying his burden to Jim's quarters where he threw him on the bed, as if he was a sack of potatoes.

His actions differed from those of the previous night in that Jim had never put his boots back on so he was already dressed only in his trousers and waistcoat and he saw no need to remove either of those articles. Instead he made a thorough search of Jim's room, looking for alcohol and weapons or anything he might utilise to make his escape once Artie got around to locking the door on him. He found a knife that Jim kept in the top drawer of a small chest in the corner, a souvenir of a past case. It was small with a silver handle and had belonged to a murderous young lady of good family. Jim had literally plucked it from the bullet proof vest he was wearing at the time. Artie could smile at the reminiscence now, though he had been anxious at the time until he could be sure his partner was all right. He put the knife in his pocket.

He turned to look at Jim now and recalled the events of the last twenty-four hours. "What happened?" he asked him. The answer of course was Loveless. With a heavy heart Artie finished searching the room, remembering to remove Jim's gun belt and the lock-pick from his jacket and left his partner to wake up in his own time. Hopefully they would reach the next town by the time that happened. Artie went back to the varnish car, not feeling at all like breakfast, but that he had failed Jim in some way.

Artie told himself over and over again during the next hour that locking Jim out of harm's way was for his friend's good but he had to admit that his real priority had been his own peace of mind, though it had to be better for Jim to remain sober, didn't it?

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim regained consciousness slowly and painfully a few hours later. He felt dizzy and his mouth was dry. He unhooked his tongue from the roof of his mouth and took in a shuddering breath.

"What the…?" he rasped, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. There was no tenderness there from a blow of any kind. So how had he been knocked out? Then through the haze came the memory of Artie handing him a cup of coffee. "The…." He would have used an appropriate epithet if he hadn't chosen to stand up at the same time as he spoke and sent the room spinning around him. Jim gently subsided onto the bed again. Where was a drink when you needed one, he thought?

The next time he tried to stand up he took it slowly with one hand on his head. He had been drugged before by countless baddies and he recognised the symptoms and knew that they would wear off in a short space of time. There was no point in looking for booze in his room, he knew, so he dragged himself to the door but it wouldn't open even though he rattled the handle several times.

"Damm!" he said, turning to look for his jacket. The lock-pick was no longer under the lapel. "Artie..you….!" he shouted. "Let me the hell out of here!"

There was no response and no sound of anyone outside the door, even when he put his ear to it. He looked through the keyhole; there was a key blocking his view. Quickly he looked around for something long and thin. In a drawer he came across the rod he used to clean his gun.

"Aha, you didn't think of that did you, Artie," he said to himself, with a sneer.

There was a copy of the new Washington Sentinel lying on his bedside table and he tore a page from it. Then he returned to the door and placed the page under it with the larger part of it in the hall. He used the rod to push the key out of the lock and it dropped onto the paper then he drew both items into the room. It was a matter of moments to put the key in the lock and open the door.

"Ha ha, Mr smarty pants Artemus Gordon," he whispered, as he entered the hallway and headed for the laboratory.

Once there Jim sorted quickly through the glass bottles on the shelves until he found some ethanol alcohol that Artie kept for chemical experiments. He was just about to put it to his lips when there was a loud explosion and the bottle splintered as it was torn from his grasp. He turned a shocked face to the doorway to see Artie holding a loaded gun and it was aimed at him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	5. The Doctor

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 5

 **The Doctor**

"Jim, you blasted idiot!" Artie shouted as he ran forward, stowing his gun in the front of his trousers in order to drag his partner away from the bottles and out of the laboratory. Once they were in the corridor he threw Jim against the wall while he locked the door.

"Just wanted a drink," Jim said belligerently, examining his hand.

"Just a small amount of the stuff in that bottle you were holding could send you blind or even kill you," Artie explained heatedly. He had never been gladder of having had a loaded gun in his hand than he had been just now. He'd just returned from town and boarded the Wanderer when he'd heard someone moving about the train. Artie had never imagined that Jim would be able to get out of his room so, as a precaution, he had taken his gun with him, hammer cocked, to confront the intruder. Thank goodness he had.

"That was too close for comfort," he said, taking Jim back to his quarters. "So that's how you did it," he added seeing the rod and the newspaper lying on the bed. Then he looked closely at Jim and noticed the blood dripping from his hand.

"Let me see that," he said, grasping his partner's hand and inspecting it. Artie was a good shot and he'd managed to take the bottle from Jim's hand with great precision but when the glass had shattered one of the shards had made a deep cut in Jim's thumb.

Jim tried to release his grasp but Artie held fast, wrapping it up tightly in a handkerchief he had taken from his pocket.

"You're going to need stitches in that," he said. "You stay there!" he ordered Jim before going to the varnish car where the doctor he had brought from town was waiting. Jim had been so preoccupied with his search for alcohol that he hadn't even noticed that the Wanderer had stopped.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Doctor Charles Lovell was middle-aged, with greying hair, a trim beard and eyeglasses.

"It's alright, Doctor," Artie said. It wasn't an intruder. It was Jim – James West, the colleague of mine that I want you to examine. I'm afraid he's had a small accident, a deep laceration to his right thumb."

"Let's not waste any time then," Lovell said. "Take me to my patient."

"Come this way, Doctor,"

"I've never seen a set-up quite like this," the doctor said as he was led through the varnish car, past the galley and into Jim's quarters.

He introduced himself to Jim who was looking a little dazed. "Let me take a look at your hand," the doctor said, taking hold of Jim's wrist. He removed the now blood-stained handkerchief and revealed a sluggish flow of blood coming from the cut. He replaced the binding and looked at Artie.

"I'll need to stitch this. Bring your friend to my office in town."

"Yes, of course," Artie said, "I suspected as much. Come on, Jim," he added helping him to stand up and put his jacket and hat on. Jim didn't demur at this treatment, apparently bemused by the injury to his hand and now a little wobbly on his legs as the effects of the sedative and his last drink were wearing off.

Doctor Lovell had driven out to the Wanderer in a buggy and after Artie had tied his horse to the back the three of them piled onto the seat, Artie holding Jim upright in his arms. It was only a few minutes' ride to the doctor's office.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Once there, Jim was made to sit on the examination table.

Lovell began by applying iodine to Jim's wound, much to his displeasure. He hissed and tried to withdraw his hand and stood up, struggling with the doctor, something Artie realised was out of character.

"Jim, let him help you," he said, pushing him back down. Jim grimaced but behaved stoically as the doctor began to stitch his thumb. It took only a couple to hold the flesh together and, while he was tying them off and then applying a dressing, Artie took the opportunity to peruse the books on a nearby shelf. One of them caught his eye and he took it down and flicked through its pages.

"The Effect of Stimulants and Depressants on the pathology of the Brain by Doctor Charles Lovell," he read aloud. "I thought your name rang a bell. You used to run a clinic in Denver specialising in the study and treatment of addicts didn't you."

"I'm sorry you remember that," Lovell said, without looking up from his ministrations.

"Why?"

"Because it was a failure."

"But your vast knowledge…."

"Man still knows very little of the workings of the brain. My findings, though they added to that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the condition of those poor wretches."

"I'm sorry to hear you say that because when I realised who you were I hoped you could be of real help to my friend there."

"Why, what's the matter with him?"

"As far as I can tell he's been given a drug that induces a form of dipsomania."

"Hmm I've never heard of that before," Lovell said, looking at Jim who was sitting there quietly, too quietly. It was obvious he was shutting down mentally and physically and that tremors were beginning to run through his body.

"That doesn't look good," Lovell said. "Help me to lie him down and restrain him."

Artie did as he was asked and not a moment too soon. Minutes later Jim started to struggle and then thrash around, intent on freeing himself.

Doctor Lovell half-filled a hypodermic needle with a colourless liquid.

"Hold his arm still!" he ordered and as soon as Artie had it in a firm grip he pushed the needle into Jim's forearm and in less than a minute the agent was asleep.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

With Jim out of the picture for a while Lovell made them both a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, I needed that," Artie said. He put the cup down for a moment and looked directly at the doctor. "Do you think you can help him?" he asked.

Lovell pondered for a moment. "Describe exactly what's been going on and I'll give you my opinion."

"The first thing I noticed was that a glass of whiskey was enough for Jim to pass out drunk even though he is usually capable of holding a much larger quantity of liquor. And he didn't seem to have a hangover afterwards. The inebriation lasted after he came to and he acted out silly schemes he'd thought up. It sounds amusing but it's nothing to laugh about. It's sad and it makes me scared for him. Then he's kind of childish, as you probably noticed. If you don't let him have any alcohol he ends up the same as he did just now."

"Hmm, and you say this was caused by a drug of some kind?"

"Yes, a megalomaniac by the name of Doctor Loveless put it in his drink."

"So you have no idea what the drug was?"

"No – is that going to be a problem?"

"In a word – yes. Is there any chance you can get hold of a sample?"

Artie thought desperately. "It's a long shot but there just might be some back at the tavern where Loveless hijacked Jim. I'll go back there and see if I can find anything. But I may not be back before tomorrow. What about Jim?"

"Don't worry about him. I'll keep him here and do some tests on him to try to get to the bottom of what's really going on with him."

"Thanks, Doc. I'll be back as soon as I can."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	6. The Tavern

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 6

 **The Tavern**

It was unlikely that Loveless would still be at the tavern but Artie wasn't taking any chances. Hence it was that a humourless-looking gentleman in a smart suit, with a moustache, brown derby and leather folder entered the establishment and wiped the dust of the street from his shoes onto the back of his trouser legs, one at a time before approaching the bartender, a man he had never seen before. 'Well he's probably not one of Loveless's men then', he thought. In a pernickety style of voice he said,

"Good afternoon, Sir, am I addressing the proprietor of this establishment?" The accent was an English one with a 'downtrodden but determined' inflection.

The other man gave him a slanted look wondering if the dapper little gent with the face that made him look like he was sucking a lemon was for real. "Who are you?" he enquired.

"My name I will give to the proprietor. If you are not he then I should be obliged if you would bring him to me." Artie sniffed, giving the distinct impression that the bartender left something to be desired.

The man gave him a surly look and directed him to a door at the back of the room. "You'll find him in there," he said, pointing.

Artie gave a definite harrumph before straightening his tie and heading in the direction indicated. Having seen the little man run away it was unlikely that Loveless would still be the proprietor but he decided that attack would be the best form of defence anyway. Having knocked on the door Artie didn't wait for an invitation to enter but barged straight in with an air of importance and efficiency that surprised the man sitting behind a desk who had his mouth open to shout something.

"I would like to lodge a complaint against your barkeep, Sir," was Artie's opening attack.

"What?" The man was obviously confused.

"Your barkeep, Sir, your barkeep," Artie repeated impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I get that. But who the hell are you?"

"Mr Alfred Greenwood, at your service, Mr…er."

"Lang, Elias Lang. What's wrong with my bark..tender?"

"A very surly fellow, Mr Lang. I don't like his attitude."

"Then try not to annoy him," Lang pointed out.

Artie gave him an assessing look and allowed himself to be diverted to the main purpose of his visit.

"Be that as it may," he said. "I work for the State Liquor Licensing Office and I am here to investigate a report that you have been serving intoxicating substances on a Sunday."

"That's a downright lie and what do you mean by 'substances' anyway?"

"I mean that not only have you broken the liquor licensing laws but you have been serving shall we say 'moonshine'"

"You can say it if you like but you won't find us serving it here."

"Are you sure? How long have you been the proprietor here? Perhaps your predecessor….."

Lang cut him off. "I've owned this tavern for ten years and I sell good liquor here and nothing else."

"In that case you won't mind if I examine your stock." Artie pursed his lips as he made his demand.

Lang looked as if he would like to snarl at the sour-faced man in front of him but he glared at him instead.

"Okay, where would you like to start?"

"With your barkeep; he has an untrustworthy face. I would like to know what he has hidden under the counter."

"Come with me," Lang said, leading the way from his office to the bar. "Cooper, this man is from the Government and he'd like to examine our stock. Show him what we have behind the counter and then take him to the cellar."

"Sure Boss," the bartender said, standing back to allow Artie access.

Artie's eyes darted everywhere as he put on a show of being methodical which was suited to his character. His glance lighted on a small, unlabelled bottle of brown liquid sitting on the top shelf at the back of the bar, hidden behind some other bottles. It didn't seem to belong there so without Cooper seeing, he palmed it and then pocketed it in one swift movement.

"I think I've seen everything I need to here," he said. "Now, if you would be so kind as to show me the rest of the liquor stock, in the cellar I believe Mr Lang said."

"I can't leave the bar untended," Cooper complained.

"Then give me the key and I will carry out my task and return it to you when I have finished."

Cooper looked uncertain and then acquiesced with a bad grace, tossing the key at Artie who almost caught it with a smooth motion before suddenly remembering to fumble it. He picked it up from the floor and headed for what he assumed was the cellar door.

"In here?" he asked and a nod from Cooper had him inserting the key in the lock and disappearing through the door and down to the space below.

As he had no need or wish to examine the liquor Artie took the opportunity to examine the bottle he had in his pocket. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents. The smell wasn't familiar which was a good sign. He was about to pour a drop onto his finger to have a taste when he stopped himself. If this was the drug that Loveless had administered to Jim then it was not worth taking the risk. It was unlikely he would learn anything from it anyway. He tucked the bottle away and took his time in returning to Lang's office.

"I'm pleased to say that I can confirm that the information about the moonshine was false, as far as your inventory shows. In that case, as the information on the serving of alcohol on a Sunday came from the same source I shall recommend no action be taken on that."

He scribbled his signature on a fake document and left it on Lang's desk.

"I shall now bid you a good day Mr Lang," he added and left the tavern with a slight nod to Cooper on his way out.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

By the time Artie returned to Dr Lovell's Office it was early the next day.

"How's Jim?" were his first words as he entered the Doctor's examination room.

Lovell was taken aback at the change in the agent's appearance.

"I had to pretend to be a state official so I could search the tavern. How is he?" he repeated.

"Much the same, I'm afraid. Once the sedative wore off I started giving him small amounts of alcohol to calm him down and he became quite inebriated and would have caused goodness knows what folly if I hadn't kept him restrained. We had some fun and games when it came to him using the commode I can tell you."

Artie looked dismayed, though he had expected nothing else.

"I've brought back what I hope is a sample of the filthy stuff that Loveless used but I can't be sure. Here it is," he added handing the small bottle to the doctor.

Lovell did the same as Artie had, sniffing the liquid to see if he could identify the smell.

"I just may have an idea of one or two of the ingredients," Lovell said, raising Artie's hopes. "Obviously it's something that affects the same area of the brain as alcohol. I have run some tests though and, because so little alcohol is needed to produce the effects of inebriation in your friend, there has been no damage to either Mr West's brain or his liver."

"Thank goodness for that," Artie said with relief. "What happens now?"

"I'll do a full analysis of the drug to discover if I am right about the ingredients and find out what else might be in it."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know."

"Then I shall have to contact my superiors and let them know that the train will be late arriving in Washington. I don't know how I'm going to explain what the problem is."

"Then don't. Just tell them that Mr West has been taken ill."

"You do realise you're suggesting I lie to the United States Government, don't you?"

"There's a difference between telling a lie and withholding part of the truth," Lovell said.

"I hope Colonel Richmond sees it that way."

"Don't worry; I'm not going to tell anyone what is really wrong with him."

"Thank you, Doctor, I appreciate it. I'm going back to the Wanderer now to use the telegraph, get changed and catch up on some sleep. I only got in a couple of hours on the trail last night."

"Do you want to see your partner before you go?"

Artie thought for a moment. "No I'll look in on him when I come back later."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Back at the train Artie sent as vague a message as he dared to the Colonel about the reason for their delayed arrival time in Washington and then removed his clothes and make-up before throwing himself down on his comfortable bed. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he would have to replace his beloved blue suit but then thought better of it. He ought to wait until Jim was back to his old self. He didn't want to put temptation in his way. With that off his mind he fell asleep almost immediately.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	7. The Hotel

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 7

 **The Hotel**

When Artie finally woke up it was mid-morning and he decided to have a shave and eat breakfast before leaving for the doctor's office. He was half way through a second cup of coffee when he was interrupted by a frantic knocking at the door of the Wanderer. He leapt up from the chair he was sitting in and hurried to see who it was.

"Thank God you're here," Doctor Lovell said, breathlessly. It was obvious that he had rushed there from town.

"What is it?" Artie asked, alarmed. "Why have you left Jim?"

"He's gone!" Lovell gasped out before almost collapsing with his hand to his head.

It was then that Artie realised the doctor was injured in some way. He helped him to a chair and made him sit down before taking a look at him. There was a small swelling on the back of his head accompanied by an abrasion. It was obvious he had been hit with something heavy.

"Don't worry about me," Doctor Lovell said. "You need to get after them."

"What happened?" Artie asked, fighting the bile that was rising in his throat. Why the hell had he decided to have breakfast before going to see his friend?

"Well, I couldn't stay with your friend all of the time, I still had to tend to my other patients."

"Of course."

"Early this morning a beautiful young woman came into my office. She was barely through the door before she fainted, in my arms."

"Of course," Artie repeated, rather impatiently. He was used to that sort of trick happening though usually to his partner, not an ageing medic. "What happened next?"

"I'm not sure. While I had my hands full with the woman something hit me on the back of the head. I was only out for a matter of minutes but when I came round the woman was gone and so was Mr West."

"Was this woman blonde?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"Belladonna!" Artie all but spat. "Dr Loveless is behind this and I don't know where he's taken Jim."

Dr Lovell was obviously rattled and he put a trembling hand into his pocket to take out a handkerchief to mop his sweating brow. As he did so something fell to the ground. It was an envelope. Artie picked it up and tried to hand it back to him. The doctor just looked at it and then at Artie.

"That's not mine," he said.

Artie instantly tore the envelope open and scanned the piece of paper inside.

"It's a note from Loveless," he said, "telling me to back off. There's no way I'm doing that."

"What _are_ you going to do then?"

Artie was peering at the note. "He's cut the top off this piece of paper, probably because had an address, but there is a feint watermark on it that he must have missed. It's from the Grand Hotel in Star City. Do you know where that is?"

"Sure, it's due west of here. Just take the road out of town and ride in a straight line for about twenty miles or so."

Artie hesitated. It all seemed a bit too easy. On the other hand he couldn't just leave Jim in Loveless' hands without at least trying to get him back.

"I'm going to have to leave you here," Artie told the doctor. "Will you be all right?"

"I think so. I can drive the buggy back into town. I just need to rest."

"I'll bow to your superior medical knowledge," Artie replied, keen to get going. "Do me a favour though, keep looking for the antidote to whatever Jim has been given."

"I shall do my best," Dr Lovell replied.

"Thank you."

Artie left him and went to the stable car to fetch his horse and then spoke with Cobb to let him know where he was going and why. He thought it best not to take the train to Star City. He didn't want to alert Loveless to his arrival, that's if he was still in the vicinity. At least the hotel was a good starting point, he decided.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

It had taken him a while to find out where James West was but once Loveless knew he took up residence at the Grand Hotel in Star City and sent his men to Lovell's office immediately to kidnap the Agent.

As with the tavern, Loveless had completely taken over the Grand Hotel. This was easily done as it wasn't very grand at all. However this time he had done it by force, putting the staff and the two guests in the dining room at gunpoint, this was carried out by his two henchmen who also tied up and gagged them. Loveless was in the hotel manager's office, congratulating himself on leaving behind a note which he hoped would bring Artemus Gordon haring after his partner.

"But what if he doesn't work out the clue, Doctor Loveless?" Belladonna asked him.

"Then he is not worthy of being a Secret Service Agent and I wash my hands of him," Loveless replied. "But mark my words he will be here. Oh yes, and he will be a witness to my revenge on Mr high-and-mighty James West before I put them both to death."

"You're so clever, Doctor Loveless."

"Clever….?" Loveless sputtered. "Was Sir Isaac Newton clever? Was Napoleon Bonaparte clever? Not to mention Julius Caesar. No they were geniuses and I rank myself among them, equal alike in scientific and tactical magnificence. Clever? Pah!"

"I'm Sorry, Doctor Loveless," Belladonna said backing away from him.

"Yes you had better leave," he said with an angry look. "And make yourself useful in the kitchen."

Belladonna nodded and fled while Doctor Loveless' suddenly smiled and rubbed his hands together with anticipation before going upstairs to see how James West was doing. He had put his prisoner in one of the best rooms on the first floor at the back. It was not as grand as Loveless would have liked but it was comfortable enough for the man fastened to the bed.

"Ah still unconscious I see," Loveless commented to the thin, middle-aged man sitting by the bed.

"Yes," the man replied. "He must be under the influence of a strong sedative." Harding was not particularly happy with his situation, not on moral grounds but because he was worried that he would be arrested for having helped in the kidnapping of a Treasury Agent. But as a doctor who had been struck from the Medical Register this fear was outweighed by the chance of employment in the field for which he had been trained and the large sum of cash his employer had promised him.

"I want to be told the moment he comes round." Loveless ordered. "I shall be downstairs in the manager's office awaiting the arrival of another friend."

Hearing the way Loveless said 'another friend' made the ex-doctor ask "Not another agent?" knowing that that would only compound his guilt.

"Yes, Mr West's partner. We must make him most welcome."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	8. The Captive

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 8

 **The Captive**

Doctor Loveless heard the bell in hotel reception ring and sneaked a peek around the office door to see who it was. The man standing in the lobby was elderly with grey hair, whiskers, beard and moustache. He was dressed in an overcoat with a shoulder cape and there was a monocle in his left eye and a carpet bag at his feet.

Loveless withdrew into the office and practically jumped for joy. The man he had been waiting for had arrived.

Responding to the sound of the bell, as they had been directed, Loveless' henchmen entered reception and took hold of the old man by the arms, one on each side of him. Once he was helpless in their grip Loveless appeared and walked over to stand in front of him.

"I suppose you want a room," he said with a smile.

"I did want a room but what I want now is for these two gentlemen to let go of me," the man responded, struggling.

"I'm sure you do…Mr Gordon." Loveless chuckled.

"What are you talking about? My name is Hope, Douglas Hope and I demand that you order these men to unhand me. I presume that they work for you?"

"Come, come Mr Gordon, you can drop the charade. I knew you wouldn't disappointment me, that you would come here at any risk to yourself in order to rescue your partner."

"Partner? What partner? Are you completely mad?"

Loveless' hackles rose at that accusation and his expression darkened with temper.

"You and Mr West would like to explain away my actions by labelling me as mad wouldn't you? Your tiny minds cannot conceive of an imagination and an intellect such as mine. Well," he added calming down a little, "we shall see whether you think I am mad when I show you what I have planned for your fellow agent."

"What are you….?" The rest of this speech was cut short as Loveless gave the signal and his henchmen began to remove the facial hair sported by the old man. After a while the ugliest of them turned to Loveless.

"It ain't a disguise, Boss," he said. "It's real!"

"What…?" It was Loveless' turn to boggle. "It can't be."

Then he turned to the elderly man. "Why have you come here?" he demanded.

"I met a young man in town and he recommended this hotel. I'm beginning to think now that he was playing some sort of joke on me."

"The hotel is closed," Loveless said shortly. "Good day to you, sir," he added and turned his back on him

"You haven't heard the last of this," the man shouted at him as he was helped into the street by the two henchmen.

"Quick!" Loveless said, running as fast as he was able to the staircase leading up to the first floor. "He was a decoy. Right now Mr Gordon is in the process of mounting a rescue."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

As soon as Artie got close enough to the hotel he realised that the two henchmen he had seen with Loveless at the tavern were acting as lookout from the window of the front parlour. He had looked around him for a way to get inside when he saw an elderly gentleman descend from a stagecoach and collect his luggage from the driver. With his usual flair he had soon ascertained that the old man needed somewhere to stay and persuaded him to try the Grand Hotel. He was betting that Loveless wouldn't shoot the old man on site. He just hoped he was right in thinking it was him and that his arrival at the front desk would occupy both Loveless and his henchmen while he carried out his plan.

He had been correct, much to his relief and with the coast clear he had shinned with a little difficulty up the drainpipe at the side of the building and entered the hotel through an open window. Well, it was open when Artie had finished with it. As luck would have it he found the room where Jim was being held on his second attempt at opening doors and the only thing standing in the way of a rescue was a skinny, middle-aged man who was losing his hair and his nerve, by the look on his face when Artie burst in.

"Jim!" Artie breathed, seeing the unconscious form of his friend tied to the bed. "What have you done to him?" he demanded.

Harding rather thought he might have a heart attack at this turn of events but he was a doctor first and foremost and a coward second so he managed to say. "He has been like that since he arrived. He's under the influence of a strong sedative."

Artie nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. It must be the sedative Dr Lovell gave him, he thought. Then it struck him just how difficult it was going to be to remove Jim from the hotel in his present state. He could see now that he must have been mad to think that it would be just a case of untying Jim and expecting him to leave the same way that Artie had arrived. Great flaming balls of…. Suddenly he heard someone running along the corridor. He looked around him; there was nowhere to hide and anyway there was a witness who could tell on him. He ran to the window; it was locked and there was no time to get it open. He thought of fighting his way through whoever was in the hall but that was Jim's forte, not his. With resignation he seated himself on the bed, examining his finger nails while he ad waited for the door to, open.

One of Loveless' henchmen flung the door open and entered with gun drawn. Loveless was right behind him and stopped dead when he saw his prey calmly waiting for him.

"Ah Doctor Loveless, what a surprise meeting you here," Artie said. "What have you been up to you insidious little toad?"

"Come, come Mr Gordon, is that any way to talk to the person who holds your life and the life of Mr West in his hands?"

"Put that way I suppose not. Would it make any difference though?"

"No, you are both going to die anyway."

"Hmm, I thought that would be the case."

Harding Gave an audible gasp at the revelation of Loveless' plans

Loveless heard him. "Let me introduce you to Mr Harding. He is the one who produced the drug I used on Mr West. Ironic really, as he was a doctor once but he was struck off for being a little too fond of the bottle. None of his patients died, luckily for him. Now getting back to you and your friend Mr West, I am going to have some fun with you two first."

"We're not going to play Happy Families are we? That would be spoiling us."

"No we are not going to play Happy Families," Loveless said, keeping his anger in check.

"Because you never had a family I expect you can't bear to see anyone else have a happy one," Artie remarked.

"My mother loved me very much, if you must know."

"Yes, as only a mother could love someone like you. It's just as well," he carried on swiftly before Loveless could interrupt. "Jim always cheats. Lucky in love, unlucky at cards, that's why he does it."

"Mr Gordon, will you please stop talking non…" That was as far as Loveless got before there was an audible groan from the man on the bed and all eyes turned to see Jim stir and let out another groan and then a grunt as he realised he was unable to move his arms and legs.

"What the…..?" he said and then, through bleary eyes he caught sight of the diminutive figure of his captor. "Loveless?" he said squinting at him. "Hey have you got anything to drink?"

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	9. Some Fun

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 9

 **Some Fun**

"Certainly, Mr West," Loveless said. "Fetch our patient a glass of water, Harding."

Harding scrambled from his seat, only too glad to have something to do. Ever since he had heard Loveless say that he was going to kill the two men he had been scared for his life, all thoughts of being arrested having paled into insignificance.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" Jim asked.

"Well now, Mr West, I'm sorry to say that I don't," Loveless told him. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Just the look on Loveless' face made Artie seethe. He was playing with Jim like a cat toys with a mouse. He knew very well he had given Jim something that would definitely make that a problem.

Jim licked his lips. "I really could do with something," he said quietly.

Artie could detect the restraint in his voice. He wanted to tell him to fight harder but held back because….Why?

"Jim you have to fight harder," he said. His partner, despite his own problems could see the anguish on Artie's face.

Jim nodded. "Could someone untie me?" he asked, "or am I a prisoner or something?" As the said the word 'prisoner' he looked at Artie and a slight flush appeared on his face. He laid down and stared at the ceiling

"No Jim, you have it all wrong," Artie said realising that his partner thought he was keeping him restrained because of his drinking problem. He must wonder why Loveless hadn't restrained Artie in any way.

Jim turned his head and looked at him with a hurt expression.

"Loveless had you kidnapped from Dr Lovell's office and kept you prisoner in this hotel. You've been having a problem with alcohol only because he slipped something into your beer at the tavern. It's not your fault. But you have to try and overcome the cravings. They're not real."

He wanted to tell him that Dr Lovell was working on a cure but didn't dare mention it because Loveless would undoubtedly do something to stop him.

Jim nodded wearily. "I'll try my best."

"Atta boy, Jim," Artie encouraged him.

"Very touching," Loveless said. "I really do enjoy it when I have both of you as my prisoners. Your humanity toward each other is outstanding."

"If only some of that humanity would rub off on you," was Artie's reply.

"I have no need of it. It would get in the way of my grand schemes."

"And what is your grand scheme now, other than torturing an innocent man?"

Loveless stamped his foot. "Mr West is not innocent," he said. "He interfered in one of my most important and clever schemes and I vowed he would pay. I will carry on until that happens. With both of you out of the way I can at last bring my other schemes to fruition."

"Ha!" was all Artie had to say to that.

"Harding, release Mr West from his bonds!" Loveless ordered.

Artie looked alarmed as he got up off the bed to make way for Harding.

"And don't think you can escape, Mr West," Loveless said. "My men have their guns trained on both of you."

Artie's alarm was due to the fact that Jim without restraints was a loose cannon at the moment. Any minute he expected the lack of alcohol in his system to cause him to go into withdrawal. He had seen men who were seriously wounded in the war become addicted to laudanum and the painful symptoms when they tried to quit were something he didn't like to remember. What he'd seen Jim go through had the potential to be as bad if not worse. He and Doctor Lovell had done their best not to let him go without some level of alcohol consumption but it was obvious that when Loveless had spoken about having fun he meant to make Jim, and therefore Artie as well, suffer terribly.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he saw Harding release the last of the ropes holding his partner.

Jim sat up and rubbed his wrists. Artie looked at him warily.

"Don't worry, Artie," Jim said. "I can do this."

Artie turned to Loveless. "Don't do this!" he said. There was a pleading note in his voice.

Loveless merely laughed. "You heard Mr West, he's going to be perfectly fine."

"You devil! I had wondered why you gave Jim that drug and now I know. You are one warped little son-of-a-…."

"Now, now, Mr Gordon. can't you see you're upsetting your partner?"

Artie instantly turned to look at Jim who was beginning to shake. He went over to him and grabbed his arms to try and steady him, wishing he could imbue his friend with some on his own strength. Jim looked up at him with eyes that were beginning to lose focus.

"Sorry Artie," he said.

"It's okay, Jim, really," Artie said soothingly, with no idea how he would handle what would inevitably happen.

Loveless' voice tore across his feelings.

"There's still time, Mr West," he taunted. "You only have to ask, or should I say beg."

Artie gave him a murderous stare and then turned his attention back to Jim who was beginning to crumble physically. Artie only hoped that it wouldn't be mentally as well. He shook him.

"You have to be strong, Jim. Don't let Loveless win."

"Don't waste your time. The outcome is inevitable," Loveless said.

"I'd like to kill you," Artie replied.

"I just need a little something," Jim whispered, his jaw clenched against the trembling.

Artie felt that he was caught in the middle with no way out. If he could he would give his friend some alcohol but he didn't have any and he berated himself for not having had the foresight to bring some with him. Loveless obviously did but he wasn't going to be happy unless he made Jim crawl on his hands and knees to him for it. He couldn't allow it. With his mind made up he took a handkerchief from his pocket and while pretending to blow his nose he palmed the small smoke bomb which it contained. Then with a silent apology to his friend he threw it to the floor next to the bed and turned away, using the handkerchief to mask his own face.

Loveless and his men were caught off guard and coughed and spluttered their way to the door while Jim fell back unconscious onto the bed, Harding who was too near to avoid the effects of the smoke bomb gently folded up and lay down on the carpet.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	10. The Aftermath

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 10

 **The Aftermath**

Artie didn't have much time to think. He remembered Loveless saying that Harding was a lush and so he searched his pockets and found a small flask of whiskey. He was about to hide it in his own clothing when he thought better of it and hid it in one of Jim's pockets instead, along with a small amount of explosive.

Seconds later Loveless and his henchmen came back into the room. They had covered their faces with damp cloths as a precaution and the two henchmen were once more pointing guns at him.

"Search him!" Loveless ordered.

Artie raised his hands in the air.

"That won't be necessary," Loveless told him, "as you very well know."

After a rough examination of his clothing the henchmen gave up.

"There's nothing on him, boss," one of them said.

"Good," Loveless said. "I realise you used that device to render Mr West unconscious and so safe from my attentions. You will not save him, however. In a matter of a few hours he will wake up and we shall start all over again. He will be in an even worse state by then and I am certain to be successful in my aim to humiliate him."

"I could kill you," Loveless.

The Doctor laughed at this. "I'm going to transfer you both to the hotel cellar. It's not as comfortable as this room but at least you'll be together where I can keep an eye on you.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Sitting on the floor in the cellar, Artie mused on the fact that he couldn't have hoped for a better decision on Loveless' part. It would be far easier to escape from there than the first floor, especially as he had Jim to take into consideration.

He looked across at his partner who was lying flat out on top of an old bed stead that had been consigned to its present location because of a few broken springs. Artie had sacrificed his own jacket to serve as a pillow for his head.

Once they were on their own he had moved the flask and explosive from Jim's person to his own. Now all he had to do was to wait for Jim to wake up. Taking into account the amount of time they had already spent in the cellar Artie reckoned that would happen in about an hour or so. He hoped that Loveless didn't turn up until long after the event. The deciding factor would probably be when Harding regained consciousness. Due to the difference in age and constitution of the two men it was likely that Jim would come round first. Artie was relying on that.

While he waited, Artie sat and thought about Charles Lovell and wondered if he had come up with an antidote to the drug. If there was no cure for Jim's symptoms ….well Artie really didn't want to dwell on that but he found himself doing so anyway. That was the problem with having too much time on your hands. It would mean an end to Jim's usual way of life and to their partnership in the Treasury Department. Artie tried to imagine carrying on with a different agent or working on his own. The former didn't appeal to him and the latter probably wouldn't appeal to Colonel Richmond. Artie couldn't deny that his age was against him. Maybe he would return to the stage. Though, he had to admit that he would miss the danger that went along with the use of his acting abilities, when on assignment. Except for the time when Jim had launched an axe at his head on the orders of one particular madman. That had been too close for comfort. Having said that, he still preferred his current occupation though. He concluded that it was a waste of time to cross that bridge until he actually reached it.

It then occurred to him that he hadn't eaten since early that morning and he was more than ready for lunch. There should be no problem. He was in a hotel after all. Going to the door he banged on it with the first thing that came to hand, a metal chamber pot.

The ugliest henchman was on guard and he responded by shouting, "What's going on in there?"

"Can you get me something to eat?" Artie replied. "I'm starving in here."

"Shut-up and be quiet!"

"Watch it, my friend. Doctor Loveless wouldn't like to hear you treating his guests like that."

"He's warned us how tricky you two are. There's no way I'm gonna open this door."

Artie turned away from the door. He hadn't really expected them to give him any food. But now he knew that there was only one guard on the cellar door.

The next hour passed very slowly. He made several attempts to have forty winks but he was too wound up to sleep. At last he heard a groan from Jim and he started to sing to cover up the sound. He didn't want the guard to alert Loveless. Jim opened his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

Quickly Artie took the top off the flask and poured some of the whiskey down Jim's throat before he had the chance to complain about the noise.

"Shhh!" he whispered. "We don't want Loveless to know you're awake."

Jim was almost immediately inebriated and started to say "Shhh" over and over, in his befuddled mind thinking that he was helping.

"You don't need to keep saying it," Artie told him.

Jim looked totally unconcerned, the whole thing forgotten, and reached for the flask, which Artie put back in his pocket, out of his reach.

"Jim, we have to get out of here and I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes, do you think you can stand up?" Artie whispered.

Jim managed to get into a sitting position and with Artie's hands in his was able to stand, though he was a bit wobbly on his legs.

"Good, you can sit down again for now but be ready to move as soon as I say and be as quiet as possible."

Jim nodded.

Artie went over to the door and placed some of the explosive from his pocket into the lock. Then he added a fuse and lit it with a match that he struck on the door frame.

He ran back to the bed and grabbed Jim, hauling him up onto his feet and dragging him stumbling ward the door just as the lock exploded and the door swung open. The guard was startled and fell backward, dropping his gun in the process. Artie hauled him up and punched him hard in the face then picked up his gun and set off up the stairs to the ground floor. Jim followed him. He was still a bit wobbly but able to stand on his own two feet. As they entered the lobby the second henchman appeared holding a weapon and Artie skilfully shot it out of his hand before he could get off a shot.

Artie and Jim were out of the front door and into the street just before Loveless appeared on the scene, come to see what was going on.

"Quick, get after them!" he ordered.

The henchman was nursing his wrist which had been sprained by the force of the gunshot that took his gun out of his hand and he was not willing to go up unarmed against a man who could shoot like Artie and he told Loveless so.

Loveless jumped up and down with rage. He had thoughts of catching up with the two men in the town where he had kidnapped West from but he knew they'd have more sense than to go back there. Now he'd have to track them down all over again. And he'd need to recruit more men to help him. But first he had to vacate the hotel. He ran inside to start to sort out his belongings. If he stayed he could expect a visit from the local sheriff, knowing Mr Gordon.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

'Mr Gordon' was at that moment riding out of town with Jim on the back of his horse, holding on to him. He didn't head back to Lovell's office but went straight to the Wanderer. There would be more chance of defending themselves from Loveless there if he decided to follow them and he didn't want to involve Lovell any further. He helped Jim into the varnish car and sat him on the couch where he flopped sideways and looked like he would fall asleep any moment.

Suddenly Artie heard a noise from the back of the train and followed the sound to the laboratory. He pulled out the gun he had appropriated from the henchman at the hotel and opened the door.

Inside the laboratory Charles Lovell was doing something with some of the chemicals on the shelves and bits of the chemical apparatus. He looked up when Artie entered.

"I hope you don't intend to shoot me," he said, "at least not if you want me to finish working on a cure for Mr West."

"Sorry," Artie said, putting the gun away. "Why are you here?"

"I was a bit wary of staying at my office once Loveless and his goons had been there."

"I don't blame you," Artie said. "How's it going?"

"I'm nearly there."

"I only ask because the Wanderer will be pulling out soon. I was just about to go and have a word with the engineer. So if you don't want to come along for the ride…"

"I think the town can do without me for a while. I'm not the only doctor in the area. I'd rather come with you and keep working on the antidote."

"That's settled then."

"How is Mr West by the way?"

"Much the same unfortunately," Artie told him. "I had to give him a drink to get him here. At least it should stave off the shakes for a while."

"Well, let me know if you want me to give him a sedative."

"Thanks Doctor. I'll call you when lunch is ready."

"Good, I'm starving."

"But first I have to telegraph the sheriff in Star City," Artie said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	11. The Cure

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 11

 **The Cure**

 _ **Thanks to nittanyapple who pointed out that alcohol is a depressant not a stimulant. I have altered two of the chapters and resubmitted them to reflect this.**_

The Wanderer was most of the way to Washington before Charles Lovell came to find Artie with the good news that he had come up with an antidote to the drug that was affecting Jim.

Artie was in the galley brewing a pot of coffee and quickly followed the doctor back to the laboratory, cup in hand.

"My suspicions were correct," Lovell told him as he approached the workbench. "The drug isn't capable of affecting the part of the brain associated with addiction only of mimicking one by stimulating a craving."

"A craving for alcohol," Artie supplied.

"In this case yes but if Mr West had been given the drug in a cup of coffee, for instance, he would have developed a craving for caffeine. It works on any stimulant or depressant such as alcohol."

"Loveless has surpassed himself this time," Artie commented. "But you have the antidote, you said."

"Yes. It's in this vial," Lovell said, showing Artie a yellow-coloured liquid.

"Great, let's try it out."

Lovell hesitated.

"What is it?" Artie asked.

"In his current condition I'm not sure that Mr West is capable of giving his consent to the use of this substance."

"Well we can't leave him the way he is. If he could give his consent he definitely would. I don't understand what the problem is."

"You're not going to like it but the cure may be as bad as the sickness."

A memory came into Artie's mind of a six-inch tall Jim and himself throwing him the antidote that Loveless had carelessly held within his reach. Although the bottle had broken, even a small amount had restored Jim to full size in front of his eyes with no discernible side-effects. Neither of them had given a moment's thought to whether it was safe to drink.

He told the doctor about the incident.

"You were fortunate on that occasion but in any case that was a matter of a physical body modification. In this case we're dealing with the workings of the human brain."

"So tell me the worst, Doc."

"It's difficult. The best scenario is that the reversal of the drug will take time and Mr West will certainly suffer some discomfort. Then there's anything in between up to and including irreversible brain damage."

Artie swallowed hard. "That's a pretty big decision to make," he said.

"Exactly, and it's one that should ideally be made by your partner."

"And you don't think he's capable of doing that?" Artie reiterated.

"I think he's likely to grab at anything because he'd probably consider anything better than what he has now."

"I guess I agree with him there. So that's two against one at the moment," Artie said. "Whether he's brain damaged or stays as he is, either way his career and therefore his life will be over. And if I'm not around a hundred percent of the time he'll just self-medicate with the booze and that's an existence I know he would hate. He'd lose respect for himself and everyone else's as well."

"You're very persuasive but are you willing to take the responsibility of making the decision on his behalf?"

Artie scratched his head. "Yes I am," he decided.

"In that case we should begin."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim was propped up in bed, suffering through one of his crashes. He desperately wanted a drink and was fighting it manfully much to Artie's admiration.

"Good news, Jim, Doctor Lovell has come up with an antidote," Artie said, hoping that his friend wouldn't notice his trepidation.

"Then let's get started. Where is it?"

"Doctor?" Artie said, turning to Lovell.

"I shall need you to give me your arm, Mr West," Lovell said.

Jim held out his arm readily, though rather shakily and Artie couldn't help feeling like a Judas at that point. He nearly choked with the effort to stop himself from saying something and then turned it into a coughing fit when Jim turned toward him with a questioning look.

Lovell had filled a hypodermic needle with some of the familiar yellow liquid but Artie was surprised to see him dispense only a fifth of it into Jim's vein. His eyes met the doctor's over Jim's head.

"I'm only going to give you a little of the antidote at a time," Lovell explained to his patient but really in answer to Artie's questioning look. "It's best to go slowly when you are using a drug for the first time."

"Someone needs to tell Loveless that," Jim complained. "I suddenly feel very tired," he added and passed out.

Lovell instantly applied his stethoscope. "His heart-beat is dangerously slow," he said. "He's stopped breathing!" he added which jolted both men into instant action. Artie began using chest compressions and Lovell looked into his medical bag and drawing out a small bottle and a syringe injected the contents into Jim's heart. Jim instantly gasped and shot up in the bed and then lay down again and passed out for the second time. Lovell bent over him.

"Heartbeat and breathing returning to normal," he said and both men sighed with relief.

"What the hell did you give him?" Artie demanded.

"Thanks to a man called Pellacani I gave him a shot of adrenal extract. I studied his methods closely after I heard that he had used it very effectively on animals to re-start the heart."

"Thank goodness you did. But does this mean that the antidote failed?"

"Not necessarily. It might just have been too much of a shock to his system and also the brain. One of my many studies was in the role of the brain in breathing."

"I thought you specialised in studying addicts."

"Yes and I noted that a large enough dose of morphine affected the brain and had the ability to temporarily make people stop breathing so that they blacked out."

"Very interesting but what do you suggest we do now?"

"We do nothing for the moment until Mr West recovers. He should be acclimated sufficiently for me to then give him a smaller dose of the antidote on an hourly basis."

Artie shook his head; he was still trying to get over the shock of his friend dying in front of his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Doc."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	12. The Road Back

**The Night of the Dubious Plot Device**

Chapter 12

 **The Road Back**

(The chapter title is in homage to D K Broster and with apologies for using it in my rubbish story)

"Hey what happened?" Jim asked as soon as he could get his head straight. He could be excused for being confused.

"Don't worry, Jim, you had an extreme reaction to the antidote but you're fine now."

"Did I just die?"

"Well….anyway Doctor Lovell says it was just that your brain wasn't quite ready. But he's going to give you small doses of the antidote from now on."

"Artie, you didn't answer me."

"Look, Jim, it may be scary but the doc and I are looking after you and…hey you don't really have any options here."

"So the answer is 'yes'."

"Yeah."

"Thank you." It didn't sound like he meant it.

"Do you want me to proceed?" Lovell asked.

"Yes," came in unison.

"Right, here we go then," Lovell said injecting half the amount of the antidote that he had used before into Jim's arm.

The three of them were silent for the next few minutes. Thankfully Jim showed no sign that he was about to die. Then he said something.

"I could really do with a drink – damn!"

"Not working yet then," Artie commented.

Lovell sighed. "You have to give it some time," he said. "This thing is deep in his brain."

"When can I have the next dose?"

"In an hour's time I suppose," Lovell said.

"You suppose?" Artie queried. "Don't you know?"

"We're in uncharted territory here," Lovell complained. "But I'm the Doctor, so leave it to me."

"Sorry," Artie said. "I guess it's just that so much hinges on this." He turned to Jim. "How about I let you have a sip of whiskey and we try and play a card game?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I guess," he said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

For the umpteenth time Artie wondered why he had chosen for them to play poker. Since he'd downed the whiskey, Jim couldn't stop himself from giggling every time he had a reasonably good hand. Eventually Artie put his cards down on the table.

"I'm going to make some coffee," he said. "Jim, I think you'd better have some. How about you, Doc?"

Doctor Lovell had been sitting on Jim's bed reading the newspaper and lifted his head up long enough to say yes before burying his nose in the broadsheet once again.

By the time they'd emptied their cups it was time to try some more of the antidote. Lovell fetched the syringe from his bag and Artie bared Jim's arm for him.

This time there was a definite reaction as soon as there had been time for it to circulate through Jim's blood stream and enter his brain.

"What's happening?" Artie asked as Jim began to turn bright red and suddenly put his hand over his mouth while his eyes widened in panic.

Artie was the first to move as he grabbed a receptacle and placed it under Jim's chin. His partner vomited into it and then looked up with relief and thanks to Artie for his prompt action.

Lovell leaned forward and jammed a thermometer into his mouth.

"A hundred and four degrees!" he said, shocked by how quickly Jim's temperature had risen.

Now the agent was sweating profusely and trembling.

"Doctor, what's happening?" Artie repeated.

"This is a good sign. It means that his brain is rejecting the drug that Loveless gave him."

"Thank goodness for that. How long is this phase going to last?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. We'll just have to wait it out."

"Well I'm going to get rid of this vomit and then I'll bring in a bowl of cold water and a cloth so I can cool him down a bit."

"Excellent idea."

By the time Artie returned Jim was rambling incoherently but still very hot. Artie immediately set about making the cloth wet, wringing the excess water out of it and applying it to his partner's forehead.

"You're going to be all right, Jim," he kept saying as he removed Jim's shirt and began to dab at his torso in an attempt to cool him down. He had dunked the cloth so many times that he was obliged to go and refill the bowl. When he returned Lovell had the syringe out again.

"You're not going to give him any more of the antidote are you?" Artie questioned.

"I just took his temperature and it's practically normal so I want to give him just one more dose," the doctor replied. "Just to make sure."

Artie nodded reluctantly. He was not a medical expert so he would have to trust Lovell's judgement. Jim hadn't asked for any alcohol since the last dose so either the antidote was working or it was just that Jim was too ill to even think about drinking. He hoped that the former was the correct reason.

For the last time Jim's arm was pierced with the hypodermic needle.

What happened next took both of them by surprise.

Jim began to writhe about but then within a couple of minutes the hot, red colour drained away from his skin and he became quite pale. He sat bolt upright in the bed and then he bowed his head and put his hand to his brow.

"I could really do with a cup of coffee," he said, "I seem to have a terrific hangover."

He looked up at his partner. "You couldn't make me some could you, Artie?"

He looked so woeful that Artie knew he was feeling physically awful and would in all likelihood be feeling the same mentally very soon and he couldn't help being moved.

"Sure, buddy," he replied, quietly. He gave Jim's hand a reassuring squeeze and left for the galley.

As soon as he was gone, Lovell began to examine Jim.

"Now then, Son, let's see how you're doing."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Lovell helped Jim back into his shirt after he had finished his examination. Half an hour later Jim was feeling a lot better as the doctor had given him some painkillers to deal with his headache. He had drunk a couple of cups of coffee and was feeling more like his old self.

"So I'm cured now, is that it?" Jim asked.

"You don't have to worry about that horrid drug affecting you anymore," Lovell replied, beaming at his erstwhile patient, feeling inordinately pleased with himself for having perfected the antidote and thankfully not killing Jim in the process.

"I don't know how to thank you, Doctor," Jim told him. "I don't know how you came up with the antidote but I feel like I owe you my life."

"Didn't Artemus tell you? He went all the way back to that tavern and found a sample of the drug. Now, now, my boy, you must put this experience behind you."

Jim looked really surprised for moment. But if he wanted to say something he wasn't given the chance.

"Good idea," Artie agreed. "We'll be in Washington by tomorrow and I expect the President will have a new assignment for us. Is he up to it, Doc?"

"Yes I should think so."

"I'm sure the President will want to meet you once he hears about what you did," Jim said.

"You don't want to keep all this from him then?" Artie asked, not believing that Jim would want what happened to him made public.

"He will keep the information within a small circle, I'm sure, and I think he deserves to know about anything that affects his agents," Jim replied. "As long as it doesn't make us look as if we're mad," he added as he could see Artie was about to bring up the fudged report they had made to their superiors over the 'alien' escapade.

"Okay, Jim, but you know you'll end up being poked and prodded by his personal physician."

Jim sighed. "Can't be avoided," he replied.

"Well I'll leave you two to it. I don't know about you but I'm pretty tired and I could do with a bit of shut-eye."

"Feel free to use my bed," Artie told him. "I'll bunk down in here with Jim."

Jim didn't protest. He realised they had a few things to talk about.

Once they were alone Jim turned to Artie.

"I don't know what to say to you," he said. "I didn't realise you had taken the risk of going back to the tavern and if you hadn't thought of it I don't know what would have happened to me."

"Don't think about it," Artie suggested. "I quite enjoyed pretending to be from the State Liquor Licensing Office."

"Is there any such thing?"

"Shouldn't think so."

Jim laughed but his expression soon became serious.

"I'm not quite sure what happened while I was under the influence of that drug but I have a feeling that I behaved disgracefully. I'm sorry you had to see that and to deal with it. I am aware that you looked after me and you rescued me from that hotel against all the odds. It would have served me right if you had left me there. Only I was so scared that Loveless would break me and have me on my knees begging for some…"

"Jim, don't think about it. Just put it out of your mind. Anyway you would have done the same thing for me."

"Then just accept my sincere thanks. I will try and forget it but I will never forget what you've done."

Artie blushed a little and then cleared his throat before replying.

"By the way, before you float away on a river of gratitude, what possessed you to throw my blue suit off the train? I know you were drunk at the time but…"

Jim looked at him as if gauging the effect of what he was about to say then he ran his fingers through his already untidy hair and confessed.

"You know something, Artie, I have never liked that suit. I guess I used the excuse of being drunk to do what I'd been longing to do for years."

"I had no idea you felt that way," Artie replied, a little bit stunned and offended.

"When your double was blown up by Doctor Faustina while wearing it I thought I'd seen the last of it," Jim continued, "but when we got back to the train and I saw it hanging in your wardrobe I realised she had used a copy."

"I suppose I ought to thank you for your forbearance in not blowing it up yourself."

"Hey, Artie, I'm sorry but I'm more than willing to buy you a new suit. What do you say?"

"I say thank you very much. I fancy a bright blue one with a white…."

"Noooo!" Jim wailed. Then he sighed and calmed down. "Okay, if you insist but I'm really gonna need a drink if I have to see you wearing it."

"Done."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Finis


End file.
